


Second cup

by goukyorin (sashimisusie)



Series: With love, from Vladivostok [2]
Category: Shadowrun
Genre: Gen, Original Character(s), Original Fiction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-04
Updated: 2013-05-04
Packaged: 2017-12-10 08:14:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 455
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/783832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sashimisusie/pseuds/goukyorin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An ork and two humans storm into a bar. Fortunately for them, the fixer is there. Unfortunately for them, the fixer’s favourite prime runner is also there.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Second cup

Sergei was sitting at the bar when he heard the doors open. Three unfamiliar sets of boots tromping heavily to the bar. But there, underneath the footfalls, was the sound of three guns being drawn. Robert began reaching under the bar for the gun he kept there, but he wouldn’t be fast enough.

There was a stack of business cards on the bar counter. Even a piece of cardstock could be a weapon, if used properly. He would only need three. Robert was a friend, and a discrete fixer willing to work with a grey hat corpsec was a valuable asset.

Four guns went off.

Two shots went wild, throwing up shards of wood from the bar counter. Sergei flicked his wrist as he moved, catching a heavy-set ork square in the face. A swift punch dispatched the girl and he bounced back to knee her companion in the groin.

The three were on the floor before they could even realize they’d missed their shots.

Sergei knelt down to peer at the unconscious trio. A novice street sam, a wannabe infiltrator, and a hacker decked out in clothes that screamed shadowrunner trideo. These kids probably wouldn’t last long enough in the shadows to be worth the stun patches. But this was Robert’s turf, so better the wasted patches than an angry fixer.

He dusted off his pants, flicking the bits of plaster off. “I’m sorry, but what was that about runner loyalty in the shadows? I couldn’t hear you over the sound of my cynicism and your Remington 990.”

“What can I say, shadows are shadows,” Robert said as he wiped the dust from the counter. He was surprisingly nonchalant for someone who’d just been shot at. Then again, he’d probably seen and done stranger things. “Repair bill is on you, Geist. It took me ages to save up for this nice counter, and these soundproof walls don’t come cheap.”

“Of course. You are my favourite fixer, after all,” Sergei said smoothly, prying the spent bullets from the wall. This one was Robert’s shot, but he didn’t need to know that.

He dropped the shells on the counter along with a certified credstick. Rob raised his eyebrows but pocketed the credstick before anyone else could see. It was a damn good tip.

Sergei waved cheerfully as he sauntered off. “Buy yourself a cup of coffee when you get off work. The real stuff, mind you.”

As he strolled down the steps, the sound of thunder rumbled overhead. The sheltered marketplace of Pike Place was just around the corner and one more cup of coffee wouldn’t hurt. Sergei smiled, and pushed up his AR shades.

His ‘security training’ expenses had been uncharacteristically low this quarter, anyways.


End file.
